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You’ve been dying for the longest time
and I’ve been slowly trying to part.
Mother’s milk has spoiled;
I respond in bouts of seclusion-
life under the orange bed-side light,
worn silver and blue buttons saving the world.

In my hand I hold your glass of milk
Then as doctor’s words defeat me
your splintered glass finally shatters
in my hand alone.

But the broken glass and liquid contents
are so slow
in reaching the ground-
the finale.

The milk and glass seem
unfamiliar
The milk too thin,
the glass too vivid.

Finally they hit the ground-
split the earth-
completing their performance.
The curtain sighs down onto the stage.

So violently
did we complete our closing scene.